Train Stops and Battle Plans: The Journey of Randy
by freakshow180
Summary: Randy meets a strange man in a bar.


And so it begins.

I hear the voices of strangers. They speak and yell and laugh… And I wonder if those laughs are lies. And the sounds get louder, and the conversations overlap, and suddenly it all blends together as just a continuous sound.

And I think about how this is only a moment in time and someday nobody in this bar will be alive. History will not record this insignificant moment in time and those laughs and yells and conversations will be forgotten moments merely washed away by the alcohol they consume.

I hear the sound of a glass being placed in front of me. It's for me.

"How ya doin' Randy?"

I hate small talk. It's nothing but pointless dialogue and default lies that fall out of our mouths.

"I'm fine."

"Ya still making videos?"

She asks me this every time I come in here. As if it's only a temporary thing I'm doing. As if she's never had a hobby or a passion.

"Yeah."

"I'll have to check more of them out one of these days!"

I know you won't.

"Sure."

"You know, it's funny. You never say much but you're so different in your videos! You're full of energy and you say so much! It's funny! I never hear you speak, but when I saw that video with the whale, it was like seeing another person!"

And now I'm mad. She acts like she knows me because I come in here once in a while. People like her think they know everyone and that everyone is just as loud and outgoing as them.

You don't know me.

You don't fucking know me.

You only think you know me.

"Yeah, the whale one. That's one of my favorites."

"I'm going to go take an order over there. If you need anything just yell my name!"

"Will do."

Looks like I'm only going to have one drink tonight. I'm not going to yell her name. That's just… uncomfortable. Yell her name? Around these people? Why would I do that? We don't know each other. She probably doesn't even want me yelling her name. I don't know…

I sip my beer and replay the conversation in my head.

Yeah.

Sure.

The whale one… one of my favorites…

Will do…

Will do.

Will do?

Did I say, "Will do?"

Will do.

Oh yeah, like "oh you know me, I'll be yelling out your name to get your attention!"

Will do.

What does that even mean?

Is that right? Will do? Is that a thing people say?

Will do.

Won't do.

I hear the sound of a glass being placed in front of me. It's not for me.

A large man with a beard brushes up against me as he struggles to sit on the barstool.

"Sorry there, bud."

"It's okay."

That glass is almost empty. Did he just move over here? Who is this guy?

"I saw you suffering over here. They should at least put the game on the TV or something," he says.

…Is he talking to me?

"Yeah…"

"Are you a social critter?"

"Uh, what?"

"What I mean is I'm guessing you're not much of a people person."

Oh, here we go. Why did I come here? This is why I drink at home.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"That's alright. The quietest people have the loudest minds. I think Stephen Hawking said that. Or typed it or however that guy talks now."

Whatever.

He continues. "What's your name?"

"Randy."

"Randy, eh? Tell me Randy, what are your thoughts on life."

"I don't know…"

"Oh, well you gotta have some thoughts on it. You're living it, aren't you?"

…Am I living it?

"It goes."

"It does, doesn't it…"

He looks at his almost-empty glass of beer and begins to swoosh the liquid around.

"I once found Jesus at the bottom of a glass of beer."

"What?"

"He asked me 'when were you last home?'"

"Jesus asked you that?"

"I said, 'this morning before I left for work.' He shook his head and said, 'no, when you were really home?'"

"Really home?"

"You know the phrase 'home is where the heart is?'"

"Yeah."

"He meant when was the last time I was where my heart was. The last time I felt comfortable where I was, and around the people I love, and doing the things I love. The last time I was happy."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I didn't know."

"What'd he say?"

"He told me to find home."

"Did you?"

"I did."

"Where was it?"

"Don't worry about where I found it. Worry about where you'll find yours."

Now he's standing up.

"It was nice talking to you."

He puts some money on the table, he turns to the door, and he leaves.

…I didn't even say goodbye…

I finish my beer, I put some money on the table and I leave.

I look around outside in the winter night and don't see the man anywhere. I guess he's gone.

I look down the street. I only live about two blocks away.

It's going to be a short walk to my house, but it's going to be a long walk home.


End file.
